Shortaki Oneshot Collection
by Writer25
Summary: A collection of Hey Arnold one-shots featuring Arnold and Helga. Most of these come from prompts from OTP ideas on Tumblr. Ratings range but most of them are K or T. I take requests also.
1. Flower Prince

**A/N- I feel bad for not updating often so I wanted to do little one shots for in between my updates for my main stories. The ratings may vary but on the whole, they'll be K+ or T. Most of these prompts will come from a tumblr called OTP prompts. I'll also take requests.**

* * *

 **Prompt: OTP Idea #729**

" **I met you at a park while you were babysitting some kids and they made you a flower crown and wow you look really cute?"**

"I promise man, one hour. Maybe less," Gerald pleaded, "Look, Riley and Justine are even asleep."

Arnold grimaced and glanced down at the five-year-old and the three-year-old who were indeed curled up on the blanket, the younger with her thumb in her mouth. The down swept eyelashes brushing plump cheeks created the perfect image of innocent children, but Arnold knew better. These were the same innocent five-and-three-year-olds who were practically swinging from tree to tree on the sugar high of an ice cream cone less than half an hour ago.

"Come on, Arnold, please? Do me a solid?" His best friend continued to beg, "The airport is only twenty minutes away. And you know I haven't seen my wife in two weeks-"

"Okay, okay," Arnold gave in with a sigh, "I'll watch them while you go pick up Phoebe. But what do I do if they wake up?"

"Just play with them," Gerald was already standing up, fishing his cell phone and keys out of his 'Daddy Bag'. "The bag has healthy snacks and juice boxes, Band-Aids, and you know my number. Call me in the case of an emergency. Thanks again!"

By the time Gerald gave his final thanks, he was half way out of the park. Arnold laughed and settled back against the tree, taking a breath of the warm summer air. He really needed to move to Hillwood. New York was just too crowded, just too… city-like for his tastes when he was in between jobs. He was glad Gerald and Phoebe always invited him to stay with them every summer. He met Gerald when they were both attending NYU, and they had been pretty close friends ever since. He was even the godfather to their kids. Gerald was always trying to convince Arnold to forego his life of traveling and settle down like he did. With a beautiful town like Hillwood, he just might consider it.

There was a small noise, just loud enough to break into Arnold's thoughts. He glanced down to see, both Riley and Justine rousing from their impromptu, post sugar crash naps. Riley sat up, blinking around her sleepily. Finally, her eyes settled on Arnold.

"Why's my daddy?" She asked, her voice hovering between tearful and confused.

"He's going to pick up your mommy sweetheart," Arnold gave her a reassuring smile, "He'll be back soon, though."

Riley just stared at him, her eyes unsure. She was his best friend only an hour ago, but now without her daddy around, Arnold was practically a stranger to her. Beside her, Justine was already sniffling, her thumb creeping back into her mouth. Arnold took a steadying breath and kept himself calm despite the rising feeling of panic. If he could deal with jaguar cubs, then he could deal with children, right? And just like any wild animal, the key was not showing them your fear.

"Hey, I know what we can do!" Arnold grinned and clapped his hands together excitedly, "Let's see who can gather the most flowers!"

Instantly, Riley's confused look was replaced by a huge smile, "Can I make you a flower crown?"

"Um… sure." Arnold relaxed, happy in his success in diverting a potential crisis.

Riley cheered happily, helped Justine up, and the two began all the flowers they could get their little hands on within a two feet radius. Arnold kept an eye on them but allowed himself to fall back into daydreaming. Taking care of children wasn't so hard. Within the space of a minute Arnold had taken two children on the verge of tears and now they were happily braiding little flowers into his hair.

"You're gonna look so pretty Mr. Arnold," Riley giggled happily, "Like a flower prince."

"Pwetty Pwince!" Justine echoed.

"I'm sure you two are doing an excellent job," Arnold tried his best to match their enthusiasm, "maybe when your mom and dad gets back we can… all…"

Arnold trailed off as the cutest girl he had ever seen entered his vision. She wore a denim, sleeveless sundress, but heavy combat boots. Her blond hair was tied back in a messy ponytail with a pink ribbon and she carried a notebook in her hand. Arnold followed her with his eyes as she walked, her stride strong, lithe, and confident, and she claimed a bench not far from them. From her tangled ponytail she extracted a hidden pen and began to write.

"A writer huh?" Arnold felt the corners of his lips lift in a smile. "Hey girls, you wanna make a new friend?"

"Okay!" Riley immediately agreed, just as social as her father.

Getting to his feet, Arnold gathered up the blanket and Gerald's "Daddy Bag", slinging it over his shoulder. Picking up Justine, he let Riley hold his hand and headed over. The girl glanced up as they approached, and he was startled by the incredible arctic blue of her eyes and her rosy lips curled up into a smirk.

"Well, hello there," She spoke first, much to his surprise, "to what do I owe this little visit?"

"Hey," Arnold smiled, feeling confident at her easy smile and twinkling eyes, "I was just babysitting my friend's daughters and we were just wondering if we could say hi. Right girls?"

"Hi!" Riley piped up, practically jumping up and down in front of the girl. "My name's Riley, what's your name?"

"My name's Helga sweetie," the girl smiled at her and then Justine, "And what's your name?"

Justine smiled shyly and laid her head on Arnold's shoulder, "Justine."

"And I'm Arnold," He momentarily let go of Riley's hand to extend it to Helga. "Nice to meet you."

Her nose crinkled as she took his hand as if she was trying to hold back a laugh.

"Nice to meet you too," Her voice even sounded like she was holding in a giggle.

Arnold swallowed back his nervousness, kept his confident smile, "May I sit with you?"

Helga gave a nod of consent. Arnold sat down, close enough to smell her vanilla shampoo and set Justine down with Riley. "You guys keep playing, while I talk to Helga, okay?"

"Okay," Both girls echoed obediently.

"So," Arnold leaned close to Helga, "what brings you here today?"

"Writing," Helga held up her notebook and continued to smirk at him, "You here to summon fairies?"

"Uh…." Arnold's smile momentarily fell, baffled by her weird question, "N-no, I told you I'm babysitting a friend's kids."

"Right," Helga giggled, "Of course. And are you a babysitter professionally?"

"Actually I'm a wildlife photographer," Arnold felt his confidence returning. He put his arm up on the back of the bench as if to lean his head on his hand, but in reality, he was making sure to flex his bicep where she could see. "So far I've been in Peru, Brazil, Chile, Ecuador… I'm thinking about going more east next."

"You don't say?" Helga's eyes danced as she smiled at him, "I've been thinking about traveling to Europe myself. Not sure if there's much interesting wildlife out there, though."

Arnold leaned a little closer, "Oh I'm sure I could find something beautiful to photograph."

Helga turned away to smother a snort of laughter, definitely not the response Arnold was expecting. He pursed his lips and moved a little away. He didn't hit on girls often, but he thought he was a little smoother than this. He had to admit, though, her laugh was really cute.

"S-sorry, sorry," Helga turned back to him once her laughter subsided, "you were saying?"

"Right, um…" Arnold cleared his throat and smiled again, wanting to get things back on track, "what do you do for a living?"

"Junior editor now, an aspiring novelist in the future," Helga declared proudly, "I specialize in art, poetry, editorial pieces…" her eyes flickered upwards and her smirk returned, "fantasy…"

She erupted into a fresh round of giggles again, leaving Arnold thoroughly confused. Was this a nervous reaction of hers? He hoped it was otherwise he was more out of practice flirting than he thought. Releasing a small sigh of frustration, Arnold lifted a hand to run through his hair and froze. Individual flowers and a flower crown were still tangled in his hair courtesy of Riley and Justine.

"Hey," Helga, still giggling, laid a hand on his knee, "it looks good on you."

"He's a flower prince!" Riley piped up merrily, "Arnold's a pretty, pretty flower prince!"

"Ha, ha, you got me," Arnold couldn't help but laugh as well, "Professional photographer by day, flower prince by night. And maybe sometime between, I could call take you out?"

It was a bold move, even for him, but hey, with a crown of flowers in his hair, what could he lose? Helga's eyes sparkled as she took his hand and wrote her phone number on his palm.

"I'm looking forward to your call," she giggled, "flower prince."


	2. Night of the Living Pumpkin Heads

**This was an old autumn/halloween prompt I did on tumblr. Inspired by R.L Stine's _The Haunting Hour_ "Pumpkin Heads" episodes. **

**Notes: Au, Preteens, Rated K+**

* * *

 **Night of the Living Pumpkin Heads**

Helga ran through the darkness, the soft soil sinking underneath her feet. Her breath came in strangled gasps and tears blurred her vision. Chills ran down her spine and every dark shape seemed to loom out to her. She couldn't believe what was happening. It was supposed to be just another stupid family trip not this, this nightmare! Her father, her mother, Olga-

A twig snapped behind her. Helga's heart jumped into her throat but she forced herself not to look behind her. She didn't have to look to know that they were closing in behind her.

"Ahh!"

A vine caught Helga's foot and she went down with a cry of pain. The breath was knocked out of her lungs. A sob choked her throat as she rolled over onto her back. Three figures loomed toward her in the darkness. The hazy moon light revealed their tattered clothing. Vines twisted around their limbs. Bob, Miriam, Olga… The figures could almost pass for her family.

Except for their grotesque pumpkin heads.

"Pl-please," Helga sobbed, "D-dad. M-mom. Olga. Don't you recognize me? Snap out of it!"

They were death to her pleas. The largest, the one who was once her father, continued moving forward. Helga tried crawling back but the soil sunk underneath her, impeding her movements. The creature reached his hands out to grab her.

"Get away from her!"

Out of the darkness, Arnold leapt through the air, swinging a baseball bat with all his strength. The metal bat connected with the monster's head and knocked it away from Helga.

"Arnold," Helga stared up wide eyed at her savior, "What- how?"

But the pumpkin head was already getting up and the other two were beginning to move toward them again.

"I'll explain later," Arnold grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet, "but right now we have to run."

Holding his hand tightly, Helga ran with him through the cursed pumpkin patch. More dark figures began to rise from the ground. Arnold's face was grim, but he didn't let go of Helga's hand.

"How did you find me?" Helga panted, "I only told Phoebe where-"

"Gerald." Arnold answered simply, "When he realized which pumpkin patch your family was going, he sent me to get you. This place- ah!"

Arnold suddenly went down as a gnarled, wooden hand snagged his foot from the ground. The baseball bat flew out of Arnold's grasp as the pumpkin creature yanked him toward itself.

"Arnold!" Helga screamed and without even thinking about it, snatched up the baseball bat. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her veins as she ran at the creature and savagely beat in its head.

"Let! Him! Go! You! Freak!" Helga punctuated each cry of outrage with a blow from the bat.

She kept hitting until the pumpkin was reduced to mush and it released its grip on Arnold. But more shapes were closing in on them.

"Come on," Helga helped Arnold to his feet, "which way?"

"The Packard is this way," Arnold reconnected their hands. "And… thank you."

"Thank me later. Right now, we really have to go."

Hand clasped again, they evaded the pumpkin heads that loomed towards them and ran for their lives. The Packard sat on the edge of the pumpkin patch, but blocking their path was a pumpkin head. Arnold took the baseball bat from Helga and swung it hard. The bat connected and the creature went down.

"It's unlocked, get in!" Arnold yelled and ran to the driver's side with the keys in hand.

Helga jumped over the fallen pumpkin head and got into the car, slamming the door shut. Arnold got behind the wheel, reeved up the ignition, and drove away from cursed pumpkin patch as fast as the car's engine would allow. As it disappeared in the rear view mirrors, the adrenaline in Helga disappeared leaving her feeling weak with terror. Her father, her mother, her sister, and almost nearly her. Helga's throat choked with silent sobs and tears raced down her cheeks. A light touch on her hand nearly made her scream. She looked down to see Arnold's hand on top of her clenched fist. Her eyes went to his face. Arnold still looked grim and tears shone in his own eyes. Helga relaxed her fist and threaded her fingers through his. She didn't say a word though and neither did he. There were no words for the horrors they just went through.


	3. The Affair

**Notes: Au, a bit OOC. A strong T for sexual implications but no lemons. Trigger warning for adultery and emotional abuse. Contains fluffiness though. ArnoldxHelga.**

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The Affair

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I might act rude, I might be blunt and have a crude way of doing things, but deep down I'm a good person. I never actually liked hurting people. I never planned on having an affair.

In terms of my love life, I thought I only had three options. Option A), the most hoped for but the least likely, was that the love of my life would finally return my affections and we'd go gallivanting off into the sunset together. Que happy ending. Option B), the most realistic, was that he'd never notice me and I'd have to learn to live without him. And option C), unfortunately just as likely, was that he'd reject me, I'd spend the rest of my life pining, and eventually die alone. Never in my dreams did I imagine that I'd be some twisted combination of A) and B). Hell, I could even end of with option C) if I wasn't careful.

But could I really be blamed? I tried, I really did. When high school rolled around and my beloved still only thought of me as a friend, I gave him up. I forced myself to stop obsessing over him and accepted his friendship as is. Every day was agony, but I forced myself to endure for his warm smile and beautiful green eyes.

And then I stopped enduring.

By redirecting my energy to school work, I graduated near the top of my class. Out of all my college picks, I chose the one furthest from home. I stayed out of Hillwood, kept contact with only a few friends, and kept my focus on my writing and my schoolwork. Years past but my heart never seemed to regain its normal beat. Maybe that's what made me vulnerable. Maybe the hopeless romantic in me never died like I thought it did, I merely suppressed it. Maybe that's how I made one of the biggest mistakes in my life.

My first mistake was being so focused on not ending up like my mother, that I ended up blind to what was happening right in front of me. When I was a child I always wondered how the hell Miriam ended up being married to a blow-heart like Bob. As an adult, I realized that she hadn't. Miriam hadn't set out to marry a workaholic, verbally abusive a-hole. She met and fell in love with a man whom she thought was strong and protective. And unfortunately, like mother like daughter; I married a man who I thought was strong, caring, and dependable.

When I first met Nathan, he carried my books whether I asked him to or not. He always paid for dinner and picked me up from work without me even asking. He proposed and hired a wedding planner so I wouldn't have to lift a finger. And I thought he was being supportive when he told me to quit my job so that I could write full-time from the comfort of our home. The home that he paid for. It wasn't until five years into our marriage that I realized I had fallen into the same trap as Miriam. Nathan didn't yell like Bob, but sometimes it felt like he was just as emotionally abusive as him. Smothering me in affection, but withdrawing it as soon as I messed up. I knew I was smart, I knew I was capable, but he made me feel like I should and could depend solely on him.

Nathan didn't consult me on moving to Hillwood, he knew it wasn't necessary. His promotion asked him to relocate, he was our sole income, and so we moved. He was a loving husband for the first week of the move, not letting me pack or unpack a single item. And then he became distant again, only speaking to me when it was time for me to serve him dinner or make loveless love in our marriage bed. The one good thing about moving back to Hillwood? I was able to reconnect with Phoebe. Other than that, I had resigned myself to a life of loneliness in a loveless marriage.

I'd never planned on having an affair, but then I went to the grocery store.

Wednesday was seafood night and there wasn't a single piece of crab, fish, or shrimp in the fridge. If I knew if I didn't book it to the store and back and have something acceptable on the table by the time he came home, Nathan would give me that cold, disappointed stare and not speak to me for another week.

It was at the grocery store that I ran into him the only way I ever ran into him. Time had gotten away from me. I practically running through the aisle looking for the right alfredo sauce for crab pasta. There was an inevitable collision, a shout of pain, and I was staring into the most beautiful pair of green eyes in the world. My mind went numb and all I could do was stare. The years had made him a distant dream, reality sharpened him into a demi-god. His jawline was strong, his eyes warm, his cornflower hair darkened into spun gold. And then he spoke. My name, in whispered reverence between his smiling lips. And in that moment, for the first time in almost five years, my heart began to beat again.

I told him I was married in the beginning. Once he learned of my dinner dilemma, he offered to come back with me and help fix dinner. He stayed so we could catch up and after he left, Nathan forbid me from speaking to him again. I never told him about my childhood obsession with our guest, but either instinct or something in my eyes told my husband that this random childhood friend was special to me. But as Arnold left, a single blazing look from those green eyes told me that he would see me again.

* * *

The light was turning into a deeper shade of orange. I didn't want to look at the clock because it would only confirm that our time together was running out. Beside me, Arnold stirred and draped his arm around my waist. I could feel the toned muscles flex as he pulled me to him. A small contented sigh escaped my lips.

"I wish you would stay," he whispered against my neck. His lips danced across my bare shoulder up to my ear, "Please?"

"You know I can't," I sighed.

I rolled over to face him, moving away just a fraction of an inch so I can look him in the face. Heaven help me he was beautiful. Our illicit lovemaking had made his hair wild. Pink, half-moon shapes made by my nails were only just beginning to fade frame his shoulders. Six months in and sometimes I still couldn't believe he was mine. That he was willing to forgo his righteous morals to be with me in any capacity he could.

"It's getting late, Nathan will be home soon," I mumbled unhappily.

Arnold's eyes suddenly darkened and a low growl emitted from his throat, "To hell with Nathan."

He suddenly rolled on top of me, blanketing my body completely. I bit back a wanton moan of pleasure as I felt every inch of his lean, hard body pressing into me. There was no time for this. No time for me to give into the scent of his skin or the warmth of his body.

"Arnold stop, I have to- Ah! Aaah…"

My mind was immediately clouded over with lust as pleasure began to burn through my body. My muscles tightened as I arched into him.

"Don't go back to him," Arnold grunted, beginning to move, "I- I love you so much. You belong with someone who loves you. I can't live without you."

"Arnooold," I should have been telling him to stop, but my legs wrapped around his waist instead, "Arnold, Arnold, Arnold. Please don't stop."

"Leave him," Arnold sunk his teeth into my shoulder wringing a cry of pleasure from me, "Leave that bastard and be with me instead."

I couldn't respond even if I wanted to. I allowed Arnold to let me forget just a little while longer.

By the time we finished and were getting dressed, sunlight was fast fading from the bedroom. As I sat on the bed and rebuttoned my blouse, I tried to think about what store I could go to serve an excuse for me coming home late. Gentle brush strokes on my hair made me smile.

"I can brush my own hair, football head," I laughed.

"Well, I like to do it for you," He returned, giving my hair a light, teasing tug, "Now shut up and let me groom you. I only have you for a few more minutes before you go running back to that son of a-"

"Arnold," I said his name firmly, and turned my head to look at him, "we talked about this. I can't afford to divorce him. I haven't sold a book in over four years. Hell, I've barely managed to write in three years before, you know… us."

"But you picked it right back up. The manuscript we sent in was amazing."

"Arnold, we sent that manuscript in a month ago. Don't you think we would have heard from them by now?"

Arnold made a noise of frustration and clenched his fists, "Dammit, if I only made a little more money!"

"Enough to pay for endless lawyers, court fees, and alimony?" I finished dressing and tied back my hair. "We both know that if I tried to divorce Nathan he'd take me for everything I didn't have and more. He'd rather have me homeless and destitute than leave him. That's not even mentioning if he found out about you."

All the strength seemed to go out of Arnold's body as his shoulders slacked. Those beautiful emerald eyes of eyes grew misty with regret and sorrow. My heart ached for him and I reached out to him.

"This is all my fault," He whispered, folding me into his arms, "I should have told you how I felt in high school. I was just so sure that you didn't feel the same."

I hummed to acknowledge that I heard him but I had no interest in reminiscing. It was too late to change things. I had spent years living with my mistake. The only thing I could do now was enjoy the present, no matter how wrong it was. I allowed myself only a few more moments in Arnold's embrace before I moved away.

"Text me when you get home?" Arnold pleaded on the threshold of his apartment door.

"I'll have to wait until he's not paying attention," I reminded him, giving him a gentle peck on the lips, " _Au revoir_ , Arnoldo."

"I want to see you tomorrow."

I froze, one foot out the door, and looked at him in surprise. One stipulation in our adulterous relationship was since I had the most to lose, I had to be the one to contact him. I couldn't risk Nathan being next to me and Arnold's name comes up on my phone. But Arnold's suggestion was even more ludicrous considering tomorrow was Valentine's day.

"You're kidding, right?" I rose an eyebrow in disbelief. "You do know what tomorrow is don't you?"

Arnold gave me a stubborn look, "I know it's Valentine's day. The day that _loved ones_ spend together."

"Yeah and usually husbands and wives spend that day together."

The statement was meant to bring him back to reality but only made us both wince. But Arnold shook his head, stubborn until the end. His eyes were soft though and he took my hands in his.

"Helga please," he begged, "I know this is hard for you and I know I'm asking a lot, but I really want to spend some part of Valentine's Day with you. A late dinner? A walk in the park? Just give me a couple of hours to show you how much I care about you. I want you to feel what it's like to be with a man who loves you."

I took a breath and looked away from those imploring, puppy dog eyes. One of the main differences between Arnold and Nathan was that in the end, Arnold always lets me decide what I wanted. He always left the final decisions to me, no matter what he really wanted. Even if I said no, I knew that his love for me wouldn't waver or fade.

"I'll try," I answered finally, "Meet me at… Chez Paris around nine. If I haven't made it by nine-thirty, that means I couldn't get away."

"Okay," Arnold's face relaxed into a smile, "Until tomorrow my love."

I couldn't help but smile as well, "Until tomorrow my love."

Night had completely fallen by the time I stepped out of Arnold's apartment building. I tracked down the nearest bookstore so I'd have an excuse for staying out and then a pizzeria so Nathan wouldn't have to wait for dinner. The car was missing from the driveway so I knew I had made it in the nick of time. I got to work setting out plates and silverware so if Nathan complained, it wouldn't be about my table setting skills. I had just finished when the front door opened and I heard his footsteps in the front hall.

"I'm home," he called in a bored tone, "you got dinner ready?"

I rolled my eyes. This was the typical greeting I got from him nowadays. "Is dinner ready?' 'Did you fix breakfast?' 'Have you finished the dishes yet?' He never asked me how my day was or how was I feeling.

"Yes, dinner is ready," I answered, trying to curb my annoyance.

Nathan entered the dining room, shuffling through today's mail. He paused though and rose an eyebrow when he saw the pizza on the table.

"Really, Helga?" He turned to me with that stupid disappointed look, "Pizza on a weeknight? Why didn't you cook?"

"I didn't have time. I was… busy," I made sure to look him in the eye, hoping that he would see the defiance in my face. Not that he would notice or care. As long as I didn't hurt his pride or embarrass him, Nathan never seemed to care what I did.

"Busy doing what?" He scoffed looking back at the mail again, "It's not like your little writing hobby is anything time-consuming."

My jaw clenched but I didn't say anything. When we first met, my writing was something he said loved about me. He never fully believed in my dream to be a famous writer. I learned how to swallow my anger a long time ago though and started to serve him his dinner. We sat across from each other in empty silence as typical for us. Nathan had so little interest in me that it'd be like talking to a potted plant. He only liked conversations that revolved around his topics of interests, his job, or me being a better wife.

"You could have at least fixed a salad," He muttered eventually.

"Fix your own damn salad."

He flicked his cold brown eyes at me, "Language, Helga."

"I'm not a child, Nathan!" I shrieked.

"Then eat your dinner and stop acting like one." He spoke so calmly, ignoring my raised voice like it didn't even matter to him.

I bit my lip so hard that I tasted blood, but I managed to reign in my fury by the skin of my nails. Yelling and screaming did nothing to rouse his attention. Crying incurred his pity but nothing more. I relished in the idea of sneaking away and spending time with Arnold tomorrow. Maybe someone would see us and a rumor would start, just enough to rattle Nathan.

"Are we doing anything for Valentine's Day tomorrow?" I ventured, "Or are you just going to give me a card and pat my head like a good little girl?"

For a moment, I hoped he would tell me that he had plans already. Hypocritically, I hoped that he was secretly cheating on me so that I could be the once to cry foul and get a free divorce. Hell, I'd let him have everything; the car, the house, the money, I just wanted out of this loveless marriage.

Nathan ignored the bite to my remark, "Tomorrow is Valentine's Day? I actually forgot."

"Of course you did," I sighed. I didn't know whether or not to feel relieved that he hadn't made plans I couldn't sneak around, or pissed that he didn't even bother. "So are we doing anything or what?"

"I don't know," A small smirk, a smirk I used to love but now despise, flits across his face, "Are you going to attempt to cook a decent meal for once?"

My hands slammed down on the table before I can stop myself, upsetting both of our drinks, and making a big mess. Nathan's smirk instantly disappeared and he slowly rose from the table. An uneasy feeling suddenly made my spine seize up. For the first time in our marriage, I wondered if he was about to hit me.

"Make sure you clean this mess up before you even think about coming upstairs tonight," He spoke in a low angry voice, "If this kitchen is spotless tomorrow, _maybe_ I'll consider taking you out to the movies tomorrow. And don't expect a box of chocolates. You've been eating too much sweets anyway."

With that he left the dining room, leaving me alone with the mess I made of the table, and my life.

* * *

Valentine's Day

I feigned a headache after the movie, claiming that I needed to go home and rest. Nathan briefly summoned a look of concern but didn't seem too bothered about not spending more time with me. Once again I hoped that he would slink off for his own affair, but unfortunately he was going to stay home and work in his study. It would make sneaking off infinitely harder, but I was determined to meet Arnold at Chez Paris tonight.

Last night, amidst the sticky coke and soggy pizza, I made a decision. I realized it when I found myself choking on my tears and reaching for Nathan's store of brandy. Miriam had flashed before my eyes, downing smoothies to drown out the sound of Bob yelling at her to fix dinner and clean the kitchen. I had finally realized how stupid I was. Other women were in far worse situations than me. Their husbands beat them and threatened to kill them. They had children who needed support and a stable home. They had unfinished college degrees and mountains of debt. I suffered from none of these that would tether me to an unhappy, loveless marriage. I was smart, I could learn to be independent again, and I also had a man who loved me. Tonight was the night I was going to leave Nathan. And Arnold deserved to be the first to know.

At eight-thirty I crept out of bed where I was supposed to be sleeping and crept to the landing of the stairs. I didn't hear the low hum of the tv but I could see some light in the hallway. That meant Nathan was still in his study. Regardless, I made my way to the window with a change of clothes carefully arranged in my gym bag. Shimmying down the drain spout recalled childhood memoirs of my crafty endeavor to either spy on Arnold or track down a wayward, incriminating diary.

Stopping by a twenty-four-hour gym, I changed into an elegant pink dress, heels, and fixed my make-up and hair. More than one girl gave me a weird look; I wondered if they somehow could guess why I was sneaking around in a gym to change into fancy date wear. I locked up my things and walked outside into the chilling February air.

Nine-forty-three. I stared past the host to see Arnold sitting at a lone table looking both devastatingly handsome and incredibly nervous. He was dressed just as elegantly as me in a three-piece suit with a dark green shirt and red tie. His golden hair was combed back as neatly as it could be and he played with his napkin, occasionally glancing at his watch. I could have wept at his loving devotion. My husband of five years could barely hold my hand at the movies.

"Ahem!" The snooty French host cleared his throat for the third time, "Reservation name, _si vous plait_?"

"Shortman," I sighed dreamily, "Arnold Shortman."

As if he could hear me, Arnold lifted his head at the exact moment and his eyes met mine. A grin immediately stretched his face and his eyes danced as he stood up, meeting the host half way as he led me to the table.

"You came," Arnold pulled me into a crushing embrace which I returned in full.

"Of course I did," I took a deep breath of his cologne and practically swoon at the sweet scent, "Valentine's Day is for the one you love remember?"

We held hands going to our table and remained hand clasped even as we sat down and ordered. It felt so right, so perfect, I was almost afraid I was dreaming. We waited until the waiter took our orders and dropped off our waters before speaking.

"There's something I have to tell you!" We both spoke at the same time in the same excited tone.

"Wait, I _have_ to go first Arnoldo," I giggled. I hadn't giggled since… ever.

I waited until Arnold nodded his permission before I reluctantly pulled my hands from his. But I smiled as I slowly took my wedding rings between my thumb and forefinger. Arnold's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as I worked the rings off my finger and dropped them dramatically on the table. It was like releasing a vice. My lungs expanded and I exhaled like I was taking my first real breath of oxygen. Arnold stared at the rings and then lifted his eyes to me.

"Helga," his voice was soft, his eyes glistening, "a-are you saying what I think you're saying."

"I stopped loving him a long time ago, Arnold." I said firmly, "Even… even if I hadn't found you I would leave him. I'm Helga G. mother-effing Pataki. I shouldn't let any man bring me down."

"Thank God," Arnold caught up my hands and kissed my knuckles over and over again, "You deserve so much better. I'm not even sure if I deserve you."

I laughed, tears of relief and happiness stinging my eyes, "Well I wouldn't get excited too fast, football head. Nathan won't let me go without a fight. I'll be homeless and destitute before he's through with me."

"I guess you could use some serious money then huh?" Arnold's eyes became mischievous as he pulled something from his back pocket, "Maybe a couple of grand?"

He laid an envelope in front of me, face down. I looked at it and looked at him, trying and failing to give him a stern look.

"Football Head, please tell me you didn't do anything thing stupid. Like, sell a kidney or something."

Arnold's smile grew impossibly bigger and he merely gestured to the envelope. "Open it, Helga."

His excitement was starting to get to me as I turned the envelope over and froze. The name of one of America's top publishing houses stared back at me. The envelope was thicker than the other rejection letters I had received from smaller publishing houses in the past. I stared at Arnold in complete bewilderment. This was not the company we had agreed to send the manuscript. But the smugness of my beloved's smile and the fact that the envelope was still sealed was a testament to just how confident Arnold was in me and my writing. After years of it being referred to as a pet hobby, of my craft being belittled and ignored, it was almost too much to bear.

"I'm going to literally screw your brains out tonight," I declared in the most deadpan, serious tone.

Arnold blushed scarlet and I opened the envelope.

Twenty-five thousand dollars. Ten times more than I ever made sending in poems and short stories to magazines. It wasn't nearly enough to start a whole new life, but it would prevent me from getting railroaded by Nathan's lawyers and his own vindictiveness.

"You wanna get out of here?" I looked up and saw that Arnold's eyes were dark with a mixture of lust, love, and passion. "We can get this food to go and head back to my place."

I smiled, already feeling the warmth in my belly, "That sounds amazing. And in the morning, we can visit my soon to be ex-husband and reintroduce him to Ol' Besty and the Five Avengers."

He laughed, the sound like the warm rustling of leaves in the summer. It may have been well after sunset, and we may not be gallivanting anywhere, but maybe, just maybe, I could get my happy ending after all.

Or even better, a new beginning.


	4. Drabbles 24 and 77

**A/N- Some drabble requests I got from tumblr. Both are rated K**

* * *

 **24\. "We're playing checkers. If you don't like it, leave."**

Arnold looked up in only mild surprise when he heard the skylight. A few drops of rain entered his room as Helga crawled in from the roof carrying something under her arm. Arnold's heart began to beat faster as she descended. Seeing her still made set butterflies let loose in his stomach. He closed his textbook and cleared his throat hoping his voice wouldn't crack.

"Hey, Helga. What brings you he-"

Helga cut him off abruptly, "We're playing checkers. If you don't like it, leave."

She sat cross-legged on his bed and opened the checkers box, unfolding it in front of her. She began setting the pieces up, lining up the red in front of herself. Arnold's smile remained on his face as he got up from his desk to join her. Dating for a whole year now, he knew better than to correct her by telling her that this was his room. Helga finished setting the game up and finally looked up at him with a weary smile.

"Hey," she said sheepishly, "sorry, I-I just wanted to get away from my family for a bit. Do you mind?"

"Never," Arnold briefly touched her hand before making the first move on the checkerboard.

* * *

 **77\. "I lost our child."**

"I lost our child."

Arnold nearly dropped the plate he holding and whirled around, his heart in his throat. But as Helga calmly removed her coat and purse, he could clearly spot their daughter giggling next to her. Around Jessica's shoulders was a dark velvet cloak decorated with silver stars and moons, and gold mystical symbols. She was struggling to hold back her laughter and failing miserably.

"You um… lost our daughter?" He opened his eyes wide in feigned shock, "How did this happen?"

Helga's eyes sparkled, pleased that he was playing along, "I dunno. A mysterious package arrived in the mail for her. She was opening and the next thing I knew she was gone."

Jessica let loose another round of giggles and ran over to the sink. Standing on tip toe, she managed to dip her hand in the dish water and flung it at Arnold's pant leg.

"Ohh! How did water suddenly splash my leg?" Arnold gasped.

"And how are muddy foot prints suddenly appear on my nice clean kitchen floor?" Helga said pointedly but taking care not to look directly at her.

Jessica giggled again but immediately sat down to remove her muddy shoes. Arnold shared a look with his wife and winked.

"Boy, I sure do miss Jessica," He sighed dramatically and reached into the cabinet for a pack of cookies, "There's no way you and I could eat all these cookies by ourselves."

Helga gave him a look though, "I'd prefer a healthy dinner first but I suppose a few wouldn't hurt."

"I want some!" Jessica pipped up but didn't remove her cloak.

Arnold gasped dramatically and spun around, spilling a couple of cookies on the ground, "What? Who said that? Where did that voice come from?"

"Me! Me!"

"I don't know where that voice came from but I hope we find Jessica soon," Helga sighed and laid a hand on her cheek, "I was going to finish reading _The Deathly Hallows_ to her after dinner."

"Let's read it now!" Jessica threw off her cloak, "And I want four cookies before dinner!"

"For someone who was missing for so long, she sure is demanding," Helga murmured to Arnold, with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm just glad our little Jessie is back," Arnold scooped his daughter up and kissed her cheek. "How about we get those cookies now?"

"Or," Helga gestured to the floor, covered in mud and cookie pieces, "One of you could clean up this mess you two made."

Arnold laughed sheepishly and gave his daughter a pleading look, "Mind if I borrow that cloak?"


	5. Macabre Lovers

**A/N- Immediate warning! This one shot is rated a hard M for gore and disturbing subjects and interests. The characters are also OOC. What you are about to read is a macabre crack fic experiment. Also a bit of horror.**

* * *

 **Macabre Lovers**

"A-Arnold? I… I-I…"

"Helga? What's wrong?"

"Oh God, Arnold…"

"Helga, what's going on? Are you hurt?"

"No… but I think he's dead."

* * *

They met at a club through a mutual friend. Arnold was pursuing his doctorate, trying to achieve his lifelong dream of becoming a surgeon. Gerald, his best friend since preschool, had convinced him to take the night off from studying and join him and his fiancé for a night out. Maybe it was the eye strain from reading medical books nonstop or the sore back from hunching over a desk for hours on end, but Arnold agreed to go. He had been hoping for a quiet dinner or a movie, but instead Gerald took them to a night club that had just opened.

"Gerald, you know I don't do night clubs," Arnold complained from the back seat, "Why can't we just go to a movie or something?"

Gerald laughed, "Because my man, you need to socialize. The only person you talk to besides me is my wife-to-be which doesn't count because you two are lab partners."

"They don't have lab partners in grad school, Gerald."

"You know what I mean."

Phoebe giggled and shared a sympathetic look with Arnold, "Clubs aren't my thing either. But it's nice to get out of the lab every now and then. I think we both deserve a break, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Arnold's agreement was reluctant to say the least. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help the nervous twinge in his stomach. Truth be told, college had made him a bit of a recluse. Up until high school he had too many friends to count and was almost as outgoing and social as Gerald. But that changed freshman year. That wasn't to say Arnold didn't like people anymore, that couldn't be further from the truth. The reason he became a surgeon was because he wanted to save and improve lives. But right around his last year of high school, Arnold's interests became… peculiar. It started with crime shows, branched out into slasher films, until eventually Arnold had to admit it to himself- he was a gore hound. Death fascinated him. Bloody images failed to make his stomach churn. Hell, he would have probably become a mortician if not for his altruistic nature.

Needless to say, it made socializing awkward. He kept it well hidden enough that no one caught on yet, even Gerald was in the dark. Phoebe remarked once or twice that he was surprisingly unaffected by the senior staff's gruesome stories, but she seemed oblivious as well. Still, most of the time Arnold was too busy with school to have much of a social life anyway. He was only able to attend med school on a scholarship and since he wasn't a natural born genius like Phoebe, he had to work as hard as he could to maintain his GPA.

"Well, we're here," Gerald's upbeat voice broke into his thoughts, "Time for me to show you two bookworms how to cut loose and have fun."

Despite the long line outside, all Gerald had to do was share a few words with the bouncer and they were let in. Phoebe and Arnold shared a partially amazed, partially knowing smile. No matter where he went Gerald always seemed to know everyone and seemed to be able to get anywhere. Inside the club was loud but not obnoxiously so. Colorful neon lights provided decoration rather than luminance and rich, velvet, wine colored panels decorated the walls.

"Gerald, this place is pretty cool," Arnold spoke loudly to be heard over the music.

"Of course it is," Gerald gave him a jaunty wink, "I only patron the coolest of places."

They picked a spot by the bar for drinks to help them cut loose. Or rather to help Arnold and Phoebe cut loose according to Gerald. Phoebe lasted half of her mai tai before she was red faced and giggly. Gerald pretty much ignored Arnold by that point in favor of his tipsy fiancé. Not that Arnold minded of course. He was content just sitting back and watching the other clubbers enjoying themselves. It took him awhile to get even slightly buzzed anyway. But suddenly, Phoebe let loose an ear-piercing shriek that almost made him topple off his stool.

"Ahhhh! Helga!" Phoebe cried out in glee, "I can't believe you came!"

She hopped her stool, hobbled on her heels for a moment, and practically dove into someone emerging from the crowd of club goers. She was tall, much taller than Phoebe, with long wavy blonde hair and startlingly bright blue eyes. A smirked played on her lips as she returned Phoebe's hug.

"Well I knew you'd never let me forget it if I didn't come," She chuckled, "So I decided to spare myself the lecture."

"I, for one, am absolutely esta *hic* tic that you're here," Phoebe grinned.

Beside him, Arnold heard Gerald groan.

"Oh great," He grumbled low so that only Arnold could hear, "I was _really_ hoping she wouldn't show."

"Why? They seem to be good friends."

"Two words man- Ball. Buster."

"Gerald," Helga's playful smirk had transformed into a clipped, forced smile, "I see you've already got her drunk. Has it been twenty minutes already?"

"Helga, nice seeing you again," Gerald's smile was just as forced, "I see you've left a trail of guys holding their nuts in your wake. Adding to your collection?"

"Oh, stop it you two!" Phoebe cut in, "Helga, this is Gerald's friend Arnold. He's in the one in the general surgery program I told you about."

At once, Helga electric blue eyes turned to him, giving Arnold a small jolt. He did his best to smile at her though, loving the small twinkle that came into her eyes when he did. He stood up and offered her a hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Helga," he spoke sincerely, "Any friend of Phoebe's is a friend of mine."

Helga's smirk returned as she grasped Arnold's hand, "Phoebe, why couldn't you get engaged to this guy?"

Arnold choked down a surprise laugh while Gerald snorted in barely suppressed anger.

"That's it! I give up!" Phoebe threw her hands up, swaying a little unsteadily, "Gerald, let's dance."

Gerald spared Arnold a pitying glance but quickly left with Phoebe to the dance floor. Helga didn't seem too perturbed though. She merely hopped onto Gerald's unoccupied stool and finished the rest of his Black Russian. While she was distracted Arnold took a moment to fully appreciate the way her short, pink dress showed off her long legs. She was gorgeous with hardly a touch of make-up on. But the way she talked to Gerald, the smoothest guy Arnold knew, showed she wasn't easily impressed by anyone. He knew he would have to tread carefully, but already Arnold was interested in getting to know Helga a little more.

It wasn't every day that a girl captured his attention. Little did he know; she would also change his life.

"So," Helga turned to him once she finished Gerald's drink, "general surgeon huh? I'd figure with that head you'd be studying neurology."

Arnold felt mildly offended, but he felt his lips quirk up regardless. He raised a hand, signaling the bartender to get them two more Black Russians. "Funny. Let me guess, you're a comedian. I bet your YouTube followers find you hilarious."

"Ooh, was that a witty comeback?" Helga snickered, "And here Phoebe told me that you were a total sweetheart."

"Normally yes. But you started it."

There was no malice behind Arnold's words though. He was actually having fun bantering with her. Sure she was a tad mean, but it was more playful than cruel. And it was the first time in a while that Arnold was enjoying himself. Conversation was easy between them. He found out that Helga was also a grad student in a literary program specializing in creative writing. She was a homebody and an aspiring writer, preferring nights in writing rather than going out. In turn, Arnold told her how he was raised by his grandparents, was a complete goody two shoes back in the day, which was why he wanted to become a surgeon.

"I want to save lives you know," Arnold mused, "Be a hero. Give someone a second chance at life."

"That sounds… like you really mean that," Helga gave him a genuinely sweet smile that sent his heart racing, "Not a lot of guys do. They usually want to be doctors to pick up beautiful, adoring women. Or be incredibly rich."

The corner of Arnold's mouth lifted in a smirk and his hand drifted on top of hers, "Well I definitely see the perk in one of those things."

Helga looked down at his hand and up at his face. Her smiled wavered a bit and she removed her hand from under his. Arnold watched in confusion as she hopped off her stool and quickly downed the rest of her drink. His confusion increased when she reached pulled a few bills from her dress and dropped them onto the counter.

"Well it's been fun sir, but I gotta run. See you around chief." Helga gave him a mocking salute and began to saunter away.

"W-wait!" Arnold called after her but she kept walking, "Helga, wait!"

He got off his stool, dropped more money on the counter, and went after her. Helga cut her way through the dancers and Arnold almost lost her twice among the press and tangle of bodies. But then he spotted her exit through a side door and pushed his way through that direction. The side door led out onto an alley way and Helga was just about to step out onto the sidewalk. Arnold broke into a light jog and caught her arm just as she was about to turn the corner. Helga shot him a pointedly, icy look and he quickly let go of her. But at least she didn't start walking again.

"Um... why did you leave?" Arnold rubbed the back of his neck, "I thought we were having a good time. Did I do something wrong?"

Helga's icy look softened and she looked away, "No. No you didn't do anything wrong. I just- have a boyfriend..."

"Oh." Arnold's stomach dropped and he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He didn't make a habit of picking up girls at bars or clubs but Helga would have been his exception.

Helga smiled and lightly punched his arm, "You're a great guy Arnold and I really had fun tonight. But... you know..."

"No. No I totally get it. But I would still like to keep in touch," He returned her smile, "I'd like to get to know you better, Helga. You seem like an interesting girl."

Helga's look immediately became slanted and her lips turned up in a secretive smirk, "You have no idea."

* * *

The next time he saw her was at a coffee shop outside of campus. It was supposed to just be a quick caffeine run in between papers, but it had been weeks since he's seen her and he could at least say hi. Three hours later, Arnold was running out the door, inevitably late for his next class but grinning ear to ear because he had her number.

* * *

Two weeks after that they took to studying in his apartment. They weren't trying to be sneaky. Helga had a filmmaker roommate who played movies nearly 24/7, Phoebe was all about her upcoming wedding, and Arnold didn't mind the quiet company. Helga sat on one end of his couch with her books, notebooks, and laptop while he mirrored her on the other end of the couch. Neither of them spoke a word until dinner when they would talk until it was time for her to leave.

But no matter how much Arnold enjoyed having her around, he was still careful. Helga having a boyfriend was one thing, His gore obsession was another. Despite Gerald's comments on their growing friendship Arnold just wasn't the type of guy who stole other people's girlfriends. And even if there was an undeniable spark between them, and even if Helga was one of the most interesting and unique women he had ever met, she'd probably run screaming from him if she knew the truth.

* * *

Things changed one day though, when Helga disappeared from his life and came back with a black eye.

She didn't talk about it, acted like it didn't even exist. Phoebe was in near tears and even Gerald offered to avenge her, but Helga brushed off all their concerns, but offered no explanations. She only told Arnold the truth.

"He doesn't want us hanging out anymore," She told him over their cups of coffee. She smiled as if it was amusing, "My boyfriend went ballistic when he found out where I was spending all my time."

Arnold however, found this less than amusing. White hot rage burned in his veins and his thoughts went darker than they had been in years, "It there any reason why this waste of human life is still breathing?"

"Because I only bruised his wind pipe," Helga's look became slanted and she giggled, "I'm not scared of him, Arnoldo. Why do think I'm here with you now?"

"Why are you with him at all!?" Arnold's voice came out a yell.

Several people turned their heads to stare at them. Helga sipped at her coffee waiting for him to calm down again.

"Because I'm insane," she deadpanned.

Arnold didn't laugh, "this isn't a joke Helga. You need to dump him. Now."

Instead of answering, Helga slowly stood up and came over to his side of the table. Bracing her hands on the arms of his chair, she leaned forward until her nose brushed his.

"Make me."

* * *

Their first kiss was in the middle of a crowded coffee shop.

* * *

Their first official date was a double date with Gerald and Phoebe. Gerald looked mildly pained that Arnold and Helga had become official, but his fiancé kept him from saying anything. The chosen movie was a remake of a slasher movie which made Arnold cringe. He was terrible at masking his emotions and more than once in the past someone had remarked at how weird it was that Arnold never finched at the goriest of scenes. As they settled into the movie though, Arnold's worries faded. While everyone else cringed and hid their eyes from the blood splatter, Helga looked down right enraptured. Suddenly, her eyes darted up to his and panic crossed her features. She had the same guilty look on her face that Arnold often had when he thought his secret had slipped. Helga turned away, her face void of emotion and her cheeks pink in embarrassment. Arnold chuckled and when she turned towards him again, he seized the opportunity and swooped down to capture her lips in a strong kiss.

After the date, they went back to his place and opened up completely to one another. In between watching some of his favorite slasher movies, he told her about his obsession with gore and crime. In between making out, she told him about her macabre stories and poetry. She even showed him some of her old work. Stories that were dark, gruesome, and if not so well written would have probably got her sent to a psychiatrist.

"I just don't understand why people get so freaked out about this stuff," Arnold sighed, "Death is a part of life and you have to accept the beautiful along with the ugly."

Helga snickered, "How long have you been practicing that line?"

"… freshman year of college," He admitted with a laugh, "Do you have one?"

She cleared her throat and took on a thoughtful look on her face, "'I know you might think my obsession is creepy, but I like to think of Marie Curie who said, _Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood.'_ I'm not obsessed with blood and murder, I'm only trying to understand it.'"

Arnold laughed and applauded her, "That's incredible. For a minute I almost thought you were sane."

"Years of practice love," Helga winked and then stood up with a yawn, "This has literally been the best date I've been on but I have to get going. It's really late."

Arnold glanced at the clock and saw that she was right. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, they had been talking all night. She didn't live far but he offered to drive her anyway which she accepted. The ride back was comfortable and quiet as sleepiness started to sink in. They exchanged good nights at her door and shared a long, loving kiss. Arnold returned home blissful, sure that he had found his soulmate.

* * *

Three days later, he got the phone call.

It was one fifty-two in the morning. Arnold closed his book with a heavy sigh. He had a hands on test in ten hours and he wasn't sure if he was ready. But there was only so much studying he could do. When his phone rang he was tempted to ignore it. The caller ID read Helga's name though which is the only reason why he answered it.

"Hello?" He answered stifling a yawn.

"A-Arnold?" Helga's voice was uncharacteristically ragged and heavy, " I… I-I…"

"Helga?" His senses were suddenly on high alert, "What's wrong?"

"Oh God, Arnold…"

"Helga, what's going on? Are you hurt?"

"No… but I think he's dead."

His stomach dropped and his mouth went dry. His first thought was that she got into a car accident and hit a pedestrian. His second thought was that maybe someone in her family was hurt or sick.

"Where are you?"

"..."

"Helga-"

"At my place."

The phone then went dead but Arnold was already grabbing his keys and his shoes. He had to actively restrain himself from driving over the speed limit. He couldn't afford to get pulled over tonight. He barely managed to turn his car off before racing into the apartment and up the stairs to Helga's door. Arnold lifted a hand to knock but then thought better of it and texted Helga instead. She opened the door within minutes. Arnold gasped. Helga's hair was in disarray, most of it falling over her eyes. Her clothes were torn and spattered in blood. She lifted her gaze to meet his and he could see her eyes were dry and free of tears. It struck him as odd but there were other things to worry about.

"Arnold I-"

"Wait," Arnold gently pushed her back inside and followed suit, closing and locking the door behind them. Then, not caring if he got bloody, he carefully examined Helga for the source of the injury.

"It's not my blood," She whispered, "it's his."

Arnold froze but didn't let go of her. With an incline of her head, she gestured behind her to the kitchen. That was when Arnold finally noticed the trail of blood on the tile. Heart pounding, but feeling surprisingly calm, he followed the trail to behind the island counter.

A man Arnold never saw before was laying on his back, a look of surprise and pain forever frozen of his face. His head was twisted to the side and there was an open gash on his neck near his collar bone. Scattered around him were kitchen knives, a knife holder, and a broken bottle of Jack Daniel's, One of the larger knives were covered in blood.

"Arnold, meet my ex-boyfriend, Marcus Oliver."

Helga leaned against the island counter, her arms crossed, looking as calm as he felt. Arnold looked back at the body. There was no need to check his pulse. It was all too clear that Marcus was dead. Severe cut to the right common carotid artery and possibly a cut to the vertebral as well. Arnold found himself taking a step closer to take a better look but then he remembered the more important matter at hand. It wasn't the dead body that bothered him, it was whose kitchen it was in that concerned him.

"Helga," He returned to her side and took her hands in his, "What happened baby?"

Helga pressed her lips together and looked away and for a moment Arnold was afraid she was about to cry. But then she brushed her hair back and tugged down her shirt collar, displaying dark bruises going nearly all the way around her neck. And moving her hair more revealed a large bruise on her jawline.

"When I dumped him, he acted like he couldn't care less," She said calmly, "But the bastard was just gearing up. There was a reason I never gave him a key but that didn't matter because he just broke in. It was a good thing my roommate was out of town. Or... maybe not. Because maybe he wouldn't have tried to kill me."

Arnold eyed the bruises and the white-hot rage returned. He spoke without thinking, "I'll kill him."

Helga burst out laughing, the first time she smiled all night, "I think I kind of beat you to that."

They both looked at the body again before Helga continued.

"Anyways, I hear a noise and see him coming through the window in the living room drunk off his butt. I tell him to get out, he begs me to come back to him, I tell him to leave again and he promises to kill me. I go to the kitchen phone to call the police and he knocks me across the jaw, I fall, he gets on top and starts strangling me. I grabbed the only thing I could reach and well... you see."

Arnold did see. He saw a dead body laying on his girlfriend's floor. And even though Helga only did it to save her own life, Marcus was dead. The flesh of his neck was torn open, the cuts shaky and deep. Arteries still leaking blood, but slowing down.

"I'll um," Arnold swallowed the lump in his throat, "I'll be right back. Stay here."

The reality of the situation had finally sunken in and his heart had begun pounding. But not in fear. In excitement. He went to his car and fished out his medical bag that he was supposed to use tomorrow. When he came back up he relocked the door and found Helga staring down at Marcus's body. Her expression was placid and she was almost completely still except for one of her hands which was slowly opening and closing. She glanced up when he approached and smiled.

"I was afraid you bailed," she said softly, "you do know this is a crime scene, right?"

"I'm well aware."He looked back at Helga who was calmly watching him, "Do you need to lie down or anything? You could be going through shock."

Helga shrugged, "You'd think I would be. But I'm not. Shock is definitely not what I'm feeling right now."

Arnold kept his bag as far away from the blood as possible and knelt by the body. Dawning a pair of latex gloves, he pulled out his tools and began to work. The razor-sharp scalpel made much cleaner cuts than Helga's kitchen knife. Widening the cuts in Marcus's neck, he could see that Helga did in fact severe the right common carotid artery with two blunt cuts. The vertebral had been nicked but not as badly. Judging by the pale hue of his skin and the foggy, glassy eyes, Marcus had died from a combination of a stroke and blood loss. Ironically if Arnold had arrived an hour sooner, he might have been able to perform an endarterectomy and save his life. Considering who this was though, Arnold didn't count this as a loss.

His exploration didn't stop at Marcus's neck. Without even thinking about it, Arnold pulled out a pair of shears and cut away Marcus's shirt. Once his chest was exposed, his exploration continued. Skin, muscles, chest cavity, organs- Arnold explored them thoroughly. It was as if his textbooks were coming to life (pardon the expression) in front of him. He had almost forgotten Helga was there until she spoke again, having moved closer to watch him.

"I date these kinds of guys on purpose you know," she laughed dryly, "Bad boys, mean guys, guys who other girls warn you not to date."

Arnold frowned and glanced up at her, "Because you think you can change them?"

"Because I like the adrenaline," Helga let out a shaky breath, "I love the danger, their temper, the gamble of whether or not I could survive their little outbursts."

"Did you… plan this?" Arnold stared at her incredulously.

At once Helga's expression darkened and she glared at her ex-boyfriend's body. "No. They've never actually attempted to kill me before. Drunken bastard."

"Dead drunken bastard," Arnold agreed with a smirk.

He went back to work on the body, beginning to dismember it. He knew from years of watching crime shows that disposing the body would be easier if they broke it down into manageable pieces. He still took his time studying and examining though. The dark gray lung told him that Marcus was a smoker. The elasticity of his stomach told him he had a relatively good diet. Not that it had saved him.

"We're going to have to drive up to the mountains to dispose of these parts," he muttered thoughtfully, "I'll severe the major joints and drain the blood from the arteries. I'll also make a few random incisions to make it look like a fight. The parts should be distributed a few miles apart so there's not easier connected. Maybe people will think a bear got to him or something."

"You um, really seem to know what you're doing, Arnold."

Something about Helga's tone alerted him. He looked at her more closely and saw that her skin was flushed, her eyes shining, and her breathing heavy. She looked impossibly aroused. The sight made Arnold's stomach tighten.

"It looks like you know your way around a body," Helga looked him up and down slowly, "And you look good with a scalpel in your hand. So calm and collected."

Arnold licked his dry lips, wondering what hers tasted like, "What did it feel like? When you killed him? What did you feel?"

Helga smiled, her eyes practically glowing, "One of the greatest rushes of my life. Fight or Flight times a million."

Arnold took a shaky breath, tossing his scalpel on the floor and slowly removing his gloves.

"What about the body?"

"It can wait."

* * *

The first time they made love was in the living room with a dead body in the next room.

* * *

Arnold ended up acing his test and afterwards he and Helga disposed of Marcus's body. They made a road trip out of it, careful to only spend cash, neither of them going into a store at the same time. They became inseparable afterwards and moved in together. No one questioned Marcus's disappearance.

* * *

Their relationship was peaceful until they killed again.

* * *

Two months later they had a huge fight over something stupid. Arnold went to a bar, got drunk, and got into a fight with a random guy. Arnold didn't even know his name. He was just a guy at the other end of the bar, bald, not a single hair on his head, not even lashes. The fight ended in a tie when they were pulled apart and thrown out of the bar. Arnold went home, made up with Helga, and forgot all about it.

But as it turned out the random guy was Neil Sage- emotionally disturbed and holds grudge.

* * *

Arnold yawned as he turned his car off and got out. It had been an exceptionally long night with classes, beginning his residency, and practicing on cadavers. Now it was nearly one in the morning and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and cuddle with-

A soft noise sounded behind him and his steps stilled. Arnold looked around but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He shrugged it off, thinking it was a stray cat, and went inside the building. He was yawning again by the time he pulled out his keys and opened his door.

"You think you can just get away with embarrassing me like that?"

Arnold's blood ran cold when he heard _that_ voice and felt something sharp pressing against the small of his back. His first worry went to Helga who was asleep and vulnerable. His only hope was to reason with this man and hope he'd leave.

"Listen man-"

"Shuddup!" The guy grabbed his shoulder, jerked him back, and sharp pain went through Arnold's hip.

Clenching his teeth together to muffle the sound, Arnold fell to the floor with a cry of pain. His hip felt like it was on fire and blood made his palm slick. His attacker stood above him, giving him a sick, twisted smile. In his hand was a pen knife covered in Arnold's blood.

"You embarrassed me at the bar," His attacker accused him, "I never lose a fight. I never lose a fight!"

Arnold cringed, but still tried to reason with him, "Look man, I'm sorry alright? I was drunk. We were both drunk."

"I said shut up!" Neil yelled and kicked him in the leg, "You embarrassed me, now I'm going to kill you!"

Neil delivered another kick, this time to Arnold's injured hip, making him yelp in pain. He thought quickly though. The pen knife wasn't very big, but it was sharp and with enough puncture wounds in the right places Neil could most certainly do some serious damage. Arnold wouldn't give him the chance. Just as Neil raised his knife again, Arnold kicked him in the knee, making him fall nearly on top of him. They both began wrestling to gain control of the knife which had slid several inches away from them. But Arnold was rapidly losing blood making hard from him to focus.

"You- cheating- bastard!" Neil yelled, "It's- my- knife!"

Arnold ignored his ridiculous outburst and reached out for the knife. Somehow though, his attacker managed to pin him under his larger body, impeding his movement and reaching the knife first.

"Ha ha! I- ah!"

Neil's triumphant exclamation turned into one of pain as his head suddenly jerked sideways before his whole body went limp. Breathing heavily, Arnold managed to push him off and looked up to see what in the world just happened. Helga stood above them, her face calm, and holding a bloodied baseball bat in her hand. She rose an eyebrow at him.

"Friend of yours?" She asked dryly.

"Yeah, a real good one," Arnold mumbled and sat up. He hissed in pain though and laid a hand on his still bleeding hip.

Helga's eyes widened, noticing for the first time he was injured. She gasped and fell to her knees next to him. "Honey, are you okay?"

"It's just a surface wound," Arnold grunted putting pressure on it, "moving around just exasperated it a little. I can stitch it up myself and it'll be fine."

A soft groan alerted him to the third person still in the room. Neil began to stir and opened his eyes. When he spotted Helga, he scowled.

"I'll... kill you...bi-"

Arnold didn't give him a chance to finish. He simply snatched up the pen knife and thrust it to the hilt into the Neil's neck. Neil immediately yanked it out and a scarlet fountain gushed from the wound. He clutched at it, thrashing and choking on his own blood, but Arnold knew that with the vein he severed, there would be no stopping the blood flow. Soon, Neil's movements slowed and he stared up at the ceiling with a blank empty gaze.

They didn't move for a while. The bleeding had stopped in Arnold's hip wound and he looked over at Helga who was watching him expectantly. He felt a smile tug at his lips.

"Honey, go get my medical bag."

* * *

They never had a conversation about what was happening to them. They never used the "M" word. They didn't even consider themselves violent people. Helga's short temper was limited to her sharp, biting words. And Arnold tried to be nice and considerate to everyone he met. He was more than happy. His grades were rising, he got to go home to a beautiful, wonderful woman, and they were happy.

But they had these urges.

* * *

Terrance Eddy had four prior arrests for assault and three rape allegations that could never be proven. He was downtown trash who took from the world what he thought he was owed. So when the cute blonde girl flirted with him, but then turned him down, he followed her home. Prissy, stuck up trick had the nerve to walk into his territory with that short dress and not give him some? He was going to teach her a lesson she'd never forget. So when she turned down an alleyway, he rushed after her. Just as Terrance was closing in on her though, she whirled around, staring him down with icy blue eyes so intensely that he hesitated for a moment. But he shook it off and lunged at her anyway. Somehow he didn't see the knife in her hand until she had plunged it into his stomach.

"Agh!" Terrance stumbled back, reeling in shock and pain. The girl was smirking at him now, sending cold shivers down his spine. He turned around, ready to make a run for it but nearly collided with a guy wearing all black, His green eyes were almost as cold as the girl's.

"You- you gotta help me man," Terrance pleaded, "this crazy broad just attacked me out of nowh-uck!"

His words were cut off when she reached around from behind him and cut his throat. Terrance fell to the ground, both hands around his own neck, trying to stop himself from bleeding out. His body was starting to go numb and he was helpless to stop the green eyed guy when he began to cut open his clothing and took a sharp looking blade.

"Pop quiz," he heard the blonde girl say, "If you absolutely had to save this worthless piece of crap's life, how would you do it?"

Terrance didn't get to hear the guy's answer before he slipped into blackness.

* * *

A year and three months after they met, Arnold proposed to Helga. She was crying when she said yes and he found himself grinning as they embraced.

* * *

Ricky Stone was a drug pusher on the bottom rung of the gang with meant he had the most to prove. In order to show just how heartless he was, he made it a habit to mug and beat to death any elderly man or woman who was unlucky enough to cross his path. He sold mostly to other broke down drug addicts so he counted his lucky starts when a groomed college-y looking guy came around his turf looking to buy. The guy must have been an idiot. He could find much better smack somewhere else, but if he wanted to get robbed that was on him. And it would only boost Lester's street cred when the guys heard about how he blew the brains out of a yuppie and got some serious cash from his corpse.

"Do you enjoy what you do?" The guy asked him as they walked deeper into the deserted alley.

"Yeah, yeah, it pays bills," Ricky said offhandedly. Already he was thinking about exactly how he was going to whip out his piece without him noticing and blow a whole in his head.

"And do you like picking on the weak and defenseless?"

Ricky slowed his steps, alerted by the dark tone in his voice. He knew this was too good to be true. This yuppie was a cop! Thinking quickly, Lester used the one trick that he knew would work against a cop.

"Hey man," he said turning to him, "you a nark? Because I'm calling entrapment and a lawyer if you are."

The man laughed but his green eyes were cold, "No. You wish I was a cop."

Something suddenly smashed into the back of Ricky's head making his knees give out completely. Dark spots danced across his eyes and his vision wavered. A figure moved from behind him, and he could make out a blonde lady stepping out to join the guy.

"I can't believe you had me squatting in that alley way for half and hour," she huffed, "do you have any idea how filthy this place is?"

Ricky struggled to sit up and began to pull out his gun. The woman spotted him though, casually walked over, and kicked it out of his hand before he could so much as aim it. She then planted her foot in the center of his chest and pushed him down until he was laying flat on his back. His head was laying on something wet and sticky, and he was starting to feel sleepy. The man knelt beside him and stretched his arm out straight on the ground before reaching into his pocket for something. Whatever it was felt cold as the guy traced it down his arm.

"The ulnar artery should be right... here."

A sharp, searing pain in his arm snapped Lester out of his semi-conscious daze and tried to sit up with a scream. But there was another searing pain in his neck and he began choking on his own blood.

* * *

The witnesses in the church applauded when the preacher declared Arnold and Helga husband and wife, and they shared their first kiss as such. Even Gerald found himself wiping at tears seeing how happy his best friend was. Even though he despised her in the beginning, he couldn't deny how perfect Helga and Arnold were together.

* * *

Patrica didn't even know what was happening until the blonde shoved the scalpel into her eye socket. Her screams of pain and outrage went unheard that late at night in Brazil.

"Help! Help! _Ajudar! Ajudar!"_ She screamed.

"You know who else probably cried for help?" The blonde glared at her and spoke through gritted teeth, "Those little girls you sold to be sex slaves!"

The blonde yanked the scalpel out and slashed it across Patrica's face next. She lifted her hands to defend herself but got slashed across the calm for her efforts. This wasn't supposed to be happening to her. She was supposed to be living a comfortable life. Every time she took a stupid, teenage runaway or kidnapped a kid that had wondered too far from home, no one seemed to be the wiser. Hell, no one seemed to care that Brazil's gutter children were going missing. So how did these two Americans on their honeymoon catch wind of her and found her out so easily?

Patrica would never know because that was when the blonde man, knelt beside her and dragged a second scalpel across her windpipe.

* * *

"I think we should stop," Helga whispered one night.

Arnold pulled his wife a little closer and kissed the top of her head. He didn't have to ask what she meant. The baby had been kicking more lately, making their impending parenthood all the more real. He put his hand on the hard curve of Helga's stomach and felt the warmth radiating from within.

"Okay,"

* * *

They lasted seven years.

* * *

Arnold sat in front of the t.v, the bouncing in his leg increasing with his nervousness. It was currently on mute but that didn't stop him from reading the caption on the bottom.

 _"And now—oh! It looks like they're releasing him!"_

"Helga!" Arnold immediately called out and unmuted the t.v.

Helga came running out of the kitchen but when she saw the headline she rushed back in, shared a quick, hushed conversation with their son, and came back out again. She sat down next to Arnold and grasped his hand in hers.

" _Is this information right?" The reporter girl sounded incredulous as she spoke to someone off screen. She must have gotten confirmation because her expression contorted into one of horror and disgust and she struggled to keep her voice steady as she addressed the viewers at home._ " _I'm being told that the accused serial child rapist and killer Andrew Yolk is being released on a technicality."_

Helga gave a choking, gasping, sob and put her hand over her mouth. Arnold let out a heavy breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

 _"It appears that may have been contaminated in the lab forcing a mistrial," The reporter's voice was choked but firm, "An appeal will be filed for another trial but it may take weeks to come through. In the meantime, Andrew Yolk will be a free man. Are prayers are with the numerous victims families who-"_

Arnold cut the TV off when he noticed Phillip poking his dark blonde head out of the kitchen, solemnly watching them.

"You okay, buddy?" Arnold asked trying to keep his voice light.

Philip hesitated and tears started to well up in his dark green eyes. He glanced at the t.v and back to them."Is that bad man who hurt Charlie going to come back?"

Helga chocked back another sob and held her arms out. Needing the comfort and security only a mother could give, Philip ran into her arms and let him self be held by her.

Andrew Yolk was a young man around the neighborhood whom everyone knew had "issues" but no one address them because of his well connected but absentee parents. He had taken to hanging around elementary schools and playgrounds but no one took notice of him like they should have because he didn't fit a the profile of a typical child killer. But one after another kids went missing with Andrew lurking around the last place they were seen. Arnold and Helga kept a closer eye on Philip but his friend Charlie wasn't so lucky. They found his body and then the others' a few weeks later. All evidence pointed to Andrew, but now he was going to walk free because of a mistrial.

The darkest and coldest fury Arnold had ever felt began to grow inside of him. He glanced at his wife and saw the same look in her eyes as well.

"No son," Arnold answered calmly, "That man will never hurt anyone ever again. I promise."

* * *

Arnold and Helga Shortman lead a relatively normal life. He was a well loved surgeon. She was a successful and highly praised novelist. They never indulged in their macabre interests.

Unless they needed to.

 **A/N- Bonus points if you can crack the code in some of the names.**


	6. Morning People

**OTP Idea #808**

 **Imagine Person A and Person B are both morning people. They have an ongoing competition for who can wake up the earliest, often winning by trying to keep the other one up late or setting super early alarms.**

The whole kitchen smelled like bacon as Arnold lifted the sizzling pieces of meat out of the pan and onto a plate of paper towels. The English muffins popped out of the toaster hot and ready for butter. Arnold started whistling as he assembled two plates of eggs benedict. It was still early, not even seven o'clock yet, but he loved waking up early in the morning. It was the time of day when the world was fresh and the possibilities seemed endless. The front door opened and Helga came in just as he set the plates on the table.

"Well, look who decided to finally get up," Helga crossed the room to kiss him on the forehead, "morning sleepy head."

"Morning," Arnold answered, smiling in confusion, "but what do you mean finally? I'm always up super early."

"You were asleep when I left. But then again, I tend to get up really early."

"Yeah? I tend to get up early too."

"Haha, not as early as me."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm up earlier than you most mornings."

"Doubt it."

"Then I'll prove it."

Arnold smiled when he realized how incredibly close their faces had become. Helga's eyes were blazing and her lips were curled in a smirk.

"Sounds like a challenge to me."

* * *

Two nights later, when Arnold had nearly forgotten about their argument, Helga fixed them a really large dinner. Roast turkey, sweet potatoes, rolls, red wine, and a dark chocolate crème pie for dessert. She said there was no special occasion, no reward for anything romantic he did, just something nice she wanted to do for him. And he was so busy helping himself to thirds that he didn't even notice that Helga barely ate anything.

Less than an hour later he couldn't keep his eyes open and turned in early. Sleep closed in on him like a fist. When he next opened his eyes, the clock read ten o'clock and Helga was smirking at him, showered, dressed and undoubtedly up for hours.

"Helga!" Arnold shouted accusingly and shot up, "Did- did you drug me last night!?"

" _Moi?_ Drug you?" She put a hand on her heart dramatically and feigned a look of shock, "My love, I merely fed you a hearty meal to help you... sleep better."

Helga's lips curved in that infuriatingly, sexy, smug smirk that drove Arnold nuts in both directions. He was torn between kissing her and hitting her with a pillow. He decided to do neither and got out of the bed.

"I didn't expect you to play dirty, you know," He grumbled. His whole day was off now. No morning walk in the park, no watching the sunrise. All he had time to do know was grab a quick shower before heading off to an appointment. "All you had to do was wake up earlier than me."

"Which I did," Helga was still smiling, unfazed and unapologetic, "I guess it's just not natural for you like it is for me."

* * *

That night, Arnold made sure to go to bed later than Helga. She shot him a triumphant, but inquisitive look, probably wondering why Arnold was sabotaging himself by staying up late. But he actually planned on being one step ahead of her. He sat in the living room and waited until he was sure she was asleep before creeping into their bedroom. Helga was curled up in the comforter, softly snoring, deeply asleep. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Arnold crept over to her side of the bed and checked for what time her alarm was set. Like always, it was set for six-thirty even though she didn't have to be at work until eight-thirty. Arnold scoffed softly and rolled his eyes. Calculating for drive time, getting dressed, and eating breakfast, he reset the alarm for seven fifty instead. And for an added measure, he took her phone and turned off her early morning alarms too. Once that was done, he smothered a snicker and crawled into bed next to her.

* * *

"Arnoooooold!"

Arnold jumped and took a minute to compose himself before responding, "In the kitchen, sweetheart."

He held back his laughter and calmly set out breakfast just as Helga stormed into the kitchen. Her face was furious but she was still in her pajamas. It was nearly impossible for even her to look intimidating when she was wearing pink and white pajamas and her hair was still in messy pigtails. The sight made Arnold lose all composure and he burst out laughing.

"Low. Blow." Helga said tightly, "What if I end up late for work now?"

Arnold grinned, "Maybe you just aren't a natural early riser. Don't worry though, if you get dressed and eat _right now_ you'll be just in time for work. I'll even drive you."

"Well aren't you magnanimous," Helga smiled tightly, "This isn't over football head."

"Tick, tock honey."

Helga shot him another dirty look before rushing to the bathroom. For a minute, Arnold felt a twinge of guilt for possibly making her late. But Helga had this way of bringing out his competitive side in a way that made resisting nearly impossible. Besides, it was kind of hot when she got all flustered whenever he got the best of her.

"Five minutes, babe!"

"Screw you, Shortman!"

* * *

The bed creaked loudly as she moved wildly above him. He had given up a while ago on keeping up with her. Arnold was content to just hold onto her hips as tight as he could and enjoy the literal ride. Her name burst from his lips as light burst behind his eyes. Helga gave him a satisfied smile before kissing his sweaty forehead and cuddling next to him. As the rush of adrenaline gave way to exhaustion, and Arnold's eyes began to grow heavy, he had a sudden realization.

"This... is low... even for... you..." He growled breathlessly.

Helga's satisfied smile turned into a smug smirk, but her eyes were hazy and her breathing ragged. "Did I... tire you out... my love?"

"You're... tired... too."

"Ha! All I need... is four hours of sleep... and I'll be fine..."

"Four hours? I can rally... after three..."

"Oh yeah... we'll see."

* * *

Four thirty-eight a.m. Arnold's brain was barely functioning so it took him a minute to read the time on the clock. The room was still dark. The only sound was Helga's soft snoring. She had just fallen asleep, minutes before Arnold had. But now he was awake, and if he got up right now, he could declare himself the victor. But his body refused to move. His eyes were beginning to grow heavy again. Helga was still asleep though, so if I snatched another thirty or so minutes, I could still beat her. Just thirty more minutes...

* * *

"That oatmeal is burning."

"Huh?"

Arnold blinked, not even realizing that his eyes had been closed. He swayed on his feet. The scent of smoke finally reached his nose. All the moisture had cooked out of the oatmeal and it was currently burning at the bottom of the pan. Swearing softly under his breath, he took it off the burner. Next to him at the counter, Helga laughed while fixing herself a bowl of cereal.

"Someone needs to take a nap."

Arnold turned to scowl at her but burst out laughing instead, "Says the woman pouring orange juice into her cereal."

Helga looked down in shock but turned to him with a haughty pout, "Who said I don't like oj in my cereal? I eat it all the time!" And, just to prove it, Helga scooped up a spoonful and shoved it into her mouth. Two chews and her face turned green. As she rushed to the sink to begin spitting and rinsing her mouth out, Arnold couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous they were being.

"Helga, honey," He walked over to her and tenderly rubbed her back, "I think we've taken this far enough. Let's call it a truce. We're both early risers."

Helga's head came up, and for a minute she looked like she was going to argue. But she winced, probably still tasting the nasty breakfast combination in her mouth.

"Agreed," She grumbled, ducking her head back under the sink.

 **A/N- Honestly, didn't know how to end this but I still thought it was cute. :)**


	7. Age Gap

**A/N- Very experimental/possibly controversial idea I've been working on. Just wanted to write it out as a one-shot before I committed to a full story. I'd love to know what you guys think.**

* * *

Honestly, Arnold never liked cigarettes. Never liked the smell, never liked how bad they were for you, and definitely never liked how addicting they were. Arnold blew out a steady stream of smoke and sighed. But he did like how mellow they made him feel. Another drag brought the smoke deep into his lungs. He held it for a moment before breathing it out again. He reserves smoking for evening time, after hectic days. Which has been every day this week. Hectic days aren't that unusual though when you're an EMT. It had practically been in the job description.

Arnold took another drag, shifting his position to stretch out his legs. He was sitting on the steps of his apartment building, enjoying the cool night air. His rear was aching, calling for the comfort of his couch, but he wanted to enjoy the night for just a little while longer. Exhaling, Arnold watched the white smoke cloud in front of him before dissipating into the air. Watching it made him reminisce. He had originally planned on being a doctor, but that felt like lifetime ago. Grandpa's heart attack, the boarding house nearly closing down, and a failed marriage had taken its toll. Now nearing thirty, Arnold hadn't seen the point in going back to medical school so he became an EMT instead. He didn't have any regrets though. His job allowed him to save lives, just as much as being a doctor would have. More than that, it kept him active, alive, something he had been in desperate need of after the last few years he had.

Arnold was brought back to the present as a figure began approaching from down the street. He stubbed out the rest of his cigarette and went into his pocket for a piece of gum. Even from this distance, he knew who it was. His neighbor, Helga G. Pataki. They first met nearly a year ago, on these very steps.

It had been a particularly rough day, a brutal bike accident that they had arrived too late to be of any help, and Arnold was on his second cigarette, a rarity for him. And as he sat on the steps brooding, a figure had walked up the street. He almost didn't see her until she was nearly on top of him, and when he saw her, his jaw had fallen open in shock. He wasn't staring at her waterfall of gold hair, or at her long legs, striding with determination and purpose. Rather he was staring at her busted and still bleeding lower lip.

He had jumped up alarmed, "Ma'am, do you need help?"

The girl had turned a steely blue glare towards him and rose an eyebrow, "What the hell? Were you waiting for me? Who called you?"

Arnold had been confused until he looked down and realized he was still wearing his uniform. And still had his medical bag with him.

"I just got off of a shift," He dismissed quickly, "Now, do you need a ride to the hospital? Should I call the police?"

The girl scowled and pushed past him, "Do you always take work home with you? I'm fine, so leave it alone."

But Arnold hadn't let it go. She was a teenager, she couldn't have been any older than sixteen or seventeen years old. A minor shouldn't be walking home with a split lip and no one says anything. So, he followed her, insisting that either he help her or call the police. She begrudgingly relented, mumbling a few choice words, and allowed him to drag her back outside to tend to her busted lip. A week later, he was sitting on the steps again when she had walked up with a bruise on her face. Arnold had demanded to know if her parents were hurting her. She had laughed in his face and told him her parents weren't around enough to hurt her. Further prying and she revealed that she had been emancipated since she was sixteen. Another week of prying, Arnold learned her name. Two weeks, and he learned she was seventeen and perfectly capable of taking care of herself so stop bugging her already! It wasn't until week seven of their accidentally meeting that they formed a semblance of friendship. After five months it had become something more.

As Helga came closer, Arnold could see that she was limping. He sighed and stood up. "What happened?"

Helga rose an eyebrow, her blue eyes twinkling, "I don't know what you mean."

Arnold folded his arms, staring down at her. She mimicked his pose, staring up at him. She was wearing make-up. Not a lot but enough to make her look slightly older than her eighteen years. She only wore make-up when she went to work. Too young to bartend, she worked the late shift as a waitress at a bar and grill.

They stared at each other until Helga's composure broke and she shifted with a wince, favoring her good leg.

"I got into a fight," she finally admitted, "but they look worse."

" _They?_ " Arnold felt his fists clench, "There was more than one?"

Helga laughed and placed her hand on his arm. His muscles tensed at her touched and he prayed she wouldn't notice.

"No need to get all worried about me," She smirked, "I can handle myself."

There was nothing in the statement. There was something in her eyes. Arnold chose the safe route, took a deep breath, and stepped back. But she couldn't very well walk up the stairs with a bad ankle by herself.

"Come on," he reluctantly stepped forward again to wrap his arm around her waist, allowing her to lean her weight on him, "Let's get you fixed up."

She allowed him to help her but didn't put more weight on him than necessary. Far less, in fact, than she knew she could. That was one of the things that had gotten Arnold in so deep with her. No matter how much you tried to help her, no matter how much she needed help, she'd always stubbornly held on to her pride and got by on this fierce inner strength she had. And yet, if you did somehow manage to get her to accept help (an Olympic feat in itself), her eyes would light on you, stare through straight into your soul, as if to see if you were really the saint you claimed to be. Or just faking it like everyone else.

Arnold eased them into the elevator, made sure that Helga was supported by the wall, and took a step back. She rolled her eyes, "Paranoid much?"

"Clingy much?" Arnold shot back, smiling, "Did you want me to carry you in my strong arms too?"

"Oh, be still my beating heart," Her eyes sparkled at him though as if she were hoping he'd do exactly that. The temptation is strong, but Arnold restrained himself. In fact, he didn't touch her again until the elevators opened on their floor and he helped her limp into his apartment. It wasn't until the door was firmly shut behind them that Arnold felt safe enough to pull her tighter against him in a hug.

"How was work?" She asked, finally allowing him to bear the brunt of her weight.

"Same as usual," Arnold moved suddenly and scooped her up bridal style, earning a squeal and a punch in the arm. He carried her to the couch, setting her down carefully before going to the closet for a splint and bandages for her ankle. "We had two senior citizens collapsing, one unexpected water break in the middle of traffic, and a kid up a tree."

Helga laughed, "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Arnold grinned, coming back to her with the supplies, "he was asthmatic so the fire department called us just to be safe." His smile faded though when he bent down in front of her to examine her ankle, "Now, tell me how you did this."

Helga made a small sound as he gently took her injured foot in his hands and examined it. Thankfully it wasn't a sprain or a fracture like he originally feared. Just a pretty nasty looking bruise and some swelling. Easing her shoe off with one hand, he caressed the bruise gently, prompting her to answer.

"Some seniors were harassing a poor freshman kid, so I embarrassed them in the cafeteria," Helga smiled ruefully, "they didn't take too kindly to it so I guess they were waiting after work to scare me to get back at me. One thing led to another, insults were exchanged, and then fists were exchanged." Her smile grew, "I won. In case you were wondering."

Arnold looked down, focusing on the task of bandaging her ankle. He didn't want her to see the pride in his eyes. Defending someone, then defending herself on the same day. Helga was all spitfire and bravery and fierce loyalty. But she was also hot-tempered, brash, and stubborn. Hell, the reason why they met was because of a fight she got into. She couldn't keep doing this though. One day, the person she picks a fight with might not just resort to using their fists. Once he had his personal feelings in check, Arnold looked up at her.

"Helga," he said making his voice stern, "how many times do I have to tell you? You can't keep doing this."

Whenever he asked her to stop fighting, Arnold got one of two responses. Either Helga laughed it off and changed the subject, or she got defensive and angry and shut him down. This time though, her smile became flirty, and she leaned down until her lips brushed his. "How else can I get you to touch me?"

Arnold's mouth twitched, the sudden urge to close the distance between them strong. With a pained groan, he chose to lean away instead.

"Helga," he groaned, still tasting the cherry of her lip gloss, "please don't do that."

"What's the big deal?" Her voice was still soft, but carried an edge of impatience, "I'm eighteen. We're aren't breaking any laws. We're aren't even going to bed together."

"Helga, I'm nearly a decade older than you."

"And?" Helga reached out and he allowed her to cup his face, leaning into her warm palm, "does that change the way you feel about me?"

It should. Arnold knew that it should. When he was her age, he was engaged and she was in elementary school. Now, she was a senior in high school with everything to look forward to in life; he was a college drop out with student loans at his heels. It didn't matter that legally, they wouldn't be doing anything wrong. It was still very much frowned upon. Arnold was too afraid to even tell his best friend about being friends with her, let alone that he might be falling in love with her. Love. Not lust. Helga had brought life and fire and happiness into his life that Arnold thought he lost years ago. And he knew deep down that he brought compassion and stability to her life that she probably never had. Maybe the age gap had something to do with it. She made him smile, she made him laugh, she made this fire burn inside of him that made him want to live his life to the fullest every day. And Arnold made her slow down, he took care of her. When her earlier life forced her to believe that it was every man for himself, he showed her differently. So, Arnold knew what they had was real, but that didn't change the fact that there was a gap between them.

"Helga," he sighed and reluctantly removed his face from her hand, "you know it's more complicated than that."

"Don't talk to me like a child, Arnold," Helga's face hardened, "I'm not an idiot. I know that it's complicated."

"I'm not talking to you like a child, but I know that sometimes you-"

"That I what?" Helga was now scowling, her arms folded across her chest. It made her look very much like a child, but Arnold valued his life too much to say so.

"I know that you sometimes jump into this with your whole heart," Arnold finished, smiling patiently at her, "You're passionate, something that I-"

"That you what?" Helga leaned forward again, her gaze intense, "love about me?"

"Admire about you," Arnold forced himself to lie, he couldn't admit to loving her. That would just complicate things so much more. But as soon as the words were out, Helga's expression closed down and she abruptly stood up.

"Thank you for helping me, _Mr. Shortman,_ " She ground out, her voice low and deadly, "I'm sorry to bother you. I'll let myself out."

She moved to the door and Arnold had a vision of her leaving through the door and out of his life for good. Before he could stop himself or think about what he was doing, Arnold shot up as well and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back to him. Fire began to burn through him. He buried his fingers in her tangled ponytail and forced her head back to look him in the eyes. They glared at each other, breathing heavily, and Arnold didn't doubt Helga felt every degree of his body heat just like he felt every degree of hers.

"Don't," he breathed, pleading and demanding, "don't call me Mr. Shortman. Don't you ever call me Mr. Shortman."

"You can't have it both ways," Helga hissed, "You can't claim that I'm too young to be your friend and then get butthurt when I speak to you like an adult. _Mr. Shor-"_

Arnold didn't even allow her to finish speaking before descending down, fitting their lips together. Helga responded just as heatedly for just a moment before pushing him away just enough to break the kiss.

"Don't," it was her turn to plead, looking at him with both anger and vulnerability, "Not unless you mean it. I won't be played with."

Arnold wanted to promise her he wouldn't. That this wasn't an old man's lust for him just as much as this wasn't a young girl's rebellion for her. But would anyone see it that way? He would never hurt her, but he didn't know if he could protect them either.

Helga's face changed and the light went out of her eyes, "Okay then."

This time when she pulled away from his embrace, Arnold let her go. He stood, feeling unmoored without her, cold without her, as she grabbed her bag and opened his door. She looked at him one more time, looking very much young and vulnerable. And he looked back at her, feeling very much old and alone. And then Helga was gone, and Arnold felt his heart go with her.

 **A/N- just to clarify to international readers, in the US age of consent is between 16 and 18 legally. But socially, it's considered a taboo for a man to date a girl younger than himself if the age gap is big enough.**


End file.
